


Realiter Inconcinnus

by MaK



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Lesbians in Space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaK/pseuds/MaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd much rather just not care about the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realiter Inconcinnus

**Author's Note:**

> written on phone bluh bluh

Tracing the swirls of her tattoos and pressing soft kisses against her chest, you allow yourself to swim in the sweet sounds of her small pants and huffs. It's all foreplay, though you doubt sex will even follow, but it's nice. Porrim smiles at you, thinly but sincere, while her hand drags down your spine and leaving few shivers. The R in your name catches against her fangs when your fingers line the sides of her bulge in her dress. "Hmm," you hum. Troll anatomy never fails to fascinate you. 

"Rose," Porrim pats your cheek with the pad of her finger and then grazes it down, catching your chin lightly so she can pull it to her. Your name is a single paragraph in this entire conversation and you decide to let it all go. Silence is easier to study in. 

She moves her head the rest of the way to kiss you. Her lips, unlike Kanaya's, are soft and smooth and there's something sweet about the taste of her tongue sliding to meet yours. Porrim drops your face, apparently sure that you're not going anywhere (and you're not), and brings her hand to rest at the small of your back again. She's relaxed, in no way troubled or stressed, and you wonder if it's because death eliminates almost all worries, but she's cautious. Her nails don't dig into your flesh and her fangs never do more than the unavoidable prick. 

It's upsetting to know she thinks you're a soft mound of flesh. "I'm a god," you mumble into her throat. She hums, neither positively nor negatively, and actually jumps a little when you move and bite her shoulder. 

Porrim's palm presses hotly into your forehead and quickly snaps you away. "What the hell," she bites her lip and inspects the wound. Jade fluid leaks slowly down the skin and the sight is rather dull in comparison to what could have been done. Something tells you Kanaya's ancestor might look rather beautiful covered in bite marks and bruises and scratches. But, you don't hate her. It'd be hard to resent someone so naturally pretty, and you don't intend to put any wasted energy into it. 

"Sorry," you say. The jade drips down her skin but, now, she seems disconcerned with this. Neither of you care at all when your mouths slide back together and her tongue brushes your lips. Porrim can probably taste her blood on your lips and tongue, but she probably doesn't give a shit even though jade blood, according to Kanaya, taste like hoofbeast shit. Ironic because you think it taste somewhat intoxicating - though the tangy aftertaste is somewhat disgusting. 

Regardless of blood and its many flavors, the two of you still kiss. You move her dress passed her hips and pull her, ridiculously bland, panties down to her knees. "Mm," one of her fangs prick your tongue and you're pretty sure her hum was meant to be an apology. Anyway, you grab a hold of her bulge and yank, somewhat harshly, upwards. Porrim croaks a little and leans into your chest, mumbling, "Holy fuck," against your nipple - which she licks. The next rub you give is a little softer and less brazen. 

"Better," she remarks. You toy with the tip as she sighs and leans back against the wall, apparently relaxed now. Occasionally, her hips will jump or her back will arch a bit but, otherwise, you don't draw much of a reaction out of the girl. A bit of you wants her to praise your name because, again, you're a fucking god. But, Porrim's died too. She can glow like Kanaya if she wants and to be that way she's had to die and wake up. You'd say she's undead, but the word seems so unfitting for someone so beautiful. 

When you rub lightly around her nook, she does something between a surprised flinch and a happy squeek. It's weird, but it's a response, so you don't necessarily care. The second time you do it, she's much more controlled and simply moans airily as she bites her lip and moves against your finger. The third time, in mid circle, you pull away completely and just pet her thigh. 

She's not surprised, but she is unhappy about the loss contact. "Rose, come on. Please."

To reply, you lick the blood rolling off her shoulder and spread it, with your tongue, around the curve of her neck. "Lovely," Porrim mumbles. It's more of a coo than anything. 

This time, you place two fingers against the line of her nook and slide them down to where it ends. Again, she isn't surprised, but she's enjoying it. Smiles and sighs, smiles and sighs. Just before you move a finger into her, there's a squeak outside the door. You ignore it and bite her neck, but an almost silent "fuck" comes from the direction, too. 

Porrim looks at you with a raised brow and you know she doesn't really care about who sees her body at the moment, but you do. So, you grab the blanket beneath her ass - she almost falls off the counter - and you wrap it around yourself kind of awkwardly. Walking is easy, but twisting the doorknob to the bedroom door is somewhat difficult. With two quick glances down both corridors, you assume it was probably Karkat or Dave passing by. 

So, the blanket drops and you return your spot between her legs. Porrim smirks, and moves quickly to press your abdomens together. Licking her lips, she leans into your chest, and then leans upward to kiss the tip of your chin. Her bulge is moving oddly against both yours and hers stomachs, leaving everything uncomfortably sticky. 

You move your head so your lips can meet again. She sighs your name into the kiss and you grab her bulge again. This time, she ruts into your palm and moans with a high pitched squeal beneath it. Another squeak emanates from the direction of the hallway. 

Upon second inspection, you open two drawers in search of mice and the bathroom and closet doors. In the second one, you find another Miss Maryam with her hand down her skirt and head bowed, her other hand over her mouth. She's flushing a fine shade of jade and all you say is, "Hey."

Porrim walks over and Kanaya curls into herself, mumbling and grumbling. Behind you, Porrim leans against your back and her bulge makes another mess against the skin there, too. 

"Kanaya," she says, sweet but toxic. Something tells you she'd be an awfully good mom. "You could've just asked to join. Or, at least watch."

Your girlfriend just curls deeper into herself and you sigh. It's hard being in love with an awkward, sexually frustrated alien. It's harder to be in a acquaintances-with-benefits relationship with said girlfriend's ancestor. It's hard and nobody understands.


End file.
